


To Severus Snape Thanks for Everything! Hermione Granger.

by VeniVeritas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fingering, Penetration, and also not sure if snape has an office adjacent to his classroom, but hey it's self indulgent not entirely canon compliant you understand, completely self indulgent smut, cum in me too anyway LMAO, i fucking love this ship im so FUCKED over it, i might write more who knows, i wrote this without having watched HP or read it since DH part 2 came out LMAO, minor gore not really, snape finger me daddy, so a lot of it is going off of fuzzy memories, this is my contribution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 22:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17088536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeniVeritas/pseuds/VeniVeritas
Summary: Hermione takes Snape up on proffered office hours. Snape uses this to his own benefit and - to hers, as well.What could POSSIBLY go wrong?





	To Severus Snape Thanks for Everything! Hermione Granger.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said in the tags, this is entirely self indulgent so it's not my best work, writing wise. There's probably tons of mistakes & I know the tenses are all fucked up. But I had to get this fic out of me. Written for my best friend, I was inspired from the beginning because of this. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Let me know if you want more, I've got a bunch of ideas bouncing around in my head!

Of course it had to be Miss Granger. Who else would so readily grab at the chance to take him up on a rare offering of office hours? A model student, to be sure, but she kept unlike company. It perturbed him, deeply, to the point that a snarl birthed itself on his face as she entered the room – and fell to his usual stoic, tight-lipped grimace atypical of the Potions professor. He made no motion to greet her, no snide remark, only a wave of his hand to the solitary chair in front of his desk. She complied, a little too greedily for his tastes. Though, it'll do for now. What he has in store is not for the feint of heart, and Hermione Granger is anything but.

“Miss Granger,” he drawls, gaze only _just_ kept on her. He bored through her and into another world entirely, otherwise. “As you know, it is a rarity to be offered such an . . . _esteemed_ honor as this.”

“A-h, yes, Professor. I'm _very_ \--” she begins to speak with her hands, then silenced by the scowl he gives.

“ _Speak_ when spoken to, Miss Granger. You're a smart girl, _surely_ you understand basic manners.”

She speaks no more, only tightens her mouth with a small noise, not unlike a mouse. It raises his upper lip in a sneer.

“I am not a lenient professor. Those whose marks decline have only one opportunity and one opportunity _only_ to improve by way of a specialized test for them – naturally, in the area they're weakest at. They're given one hour prior to study under _my_ watch.” He can see a bead of sweat form at her brow and the ghost of a smile twitches at the corner of his lips. “Don't fret, Miss Granger. As always, you have exemplary attitude and marks. Office hours are _not_ some clever test I've devised. I am here to listen to any . . .” an exasperated sigh, followed by a dismissive hand wave. “Suggestions or complaints you may have with regards to my teaching process. As per Hogwarts guidelines. Though it seems as if you will be the only one joining me today. You may speak.”

“Professor Snape, I have n-no qualms with your lessons. You're a remarkable professor who outlines everything concisely for the class and--”

“Do you think me a fool, Granger?” he's dropped the _Miss_ , now, and that bead of sweat drips to her nose. “Drop the essay. Speak truthfully. From your heart, _not_ your mind.”

“Mmn.” she makes that noise again, that small, meek noise. “W-well, you _could_ do to be a little less abrasive with some of the students. You really _are_ an excellent professor, but the snide remarks are . . . a-h-h.”

“Continue, Granger.”

“They're unnecessary, Sir. They only detract from a student's learning and chip away at what spirit or enthusiasm they may actually hold for school.” she's in a rant, full-stop now. “I-I know as a professor, you're not obligated to be our friend – but it doesn't entail you to be so bloody _rude_. If students are reprimanded for the same snide remarks as you give, then why shouldn't _you_ be?”

For once, she's given him something to smile at. When he stands, his fingers trail down the birch desk he once carved himself, so long ago. There's a bit of dust on it – it rarely gets used these days – which he absently blows away. He can almost hear her gulp as he approaches her, shuffling in the chair nervously. As he'd expected. After all, he is quite the imposing figure in her life.

“Very well, Miss Granger. How would you expect me to be reprimanded? Surely not _my_ brand of it – I hardly think consumption of a silence potion fitting for my job.”

Her tongue pokes the inside of her mouth as she looks away from him and down at her feet. “Perhaps a review of your methods by Hogwarts staff would do well to remind you what you're _supposed_ to be doing here.” Hermione says this with all the conviction she can muster and even _that_ is small, a waver in her voice.

“Ah. You'd have me suspended, then? Possibly disallowed from teaching altogether?” he croons from the far end of the room, away from her, a gentle wave of his wand locking the door.

“No, of _course_ not. I did mean what I said – you know. You really are quite a fantastic professor. I just think . . . you need a good kick in the arse.” she flushes – and this, he can feel. The change in demeanor. Her reticence to continue. “Sorry, Sir.”

He chuckles, an empty sound. “Pay it no mind. I opened the forum. I appreciate your honest, however misguided it may be, Miss Granger.” he inhales, nostrils flared. “You're right in that I'm not obligated to be your friend – I'm hardly obligated to treat any of you sniveling children for your benefit. I give lessons, I expect results. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes, Professor Snape.”

He tuts. “Mn. For the rest of office hours, you will refer to me as you have been – by Sir. Now, these aren't purely for a _student's_ complaints or suggestions – they are for mine, as well. You see, though your marks are exemplary and for all intents and purposes, you're the model student – you have a bit of a problem.”

“W-what's that, Sir?” she looks up finally, scratching the bridge of her nose, absently wiping off the sweat.

“You keep terrible company. The Potter kid and the hand-me-down Wesley. It _will_ begin to affect your school work, sooner rather than later. I have discussed it with Professor Dumbledore and we are both in agreement. Your studies are a priority, your friendship on the lowest ring of the ladder. Should I find you in the Common Room or the Halls with them, I will be forced to begin to detract from your marks. If you don't care enough about your academic record, neither shall I. Do I make myself clear?”

“But _Professor_ –”

He crosses the room a phantom, crouched down to meet her face eye-level. “ _Sir_.”

She flushes, deeper. “S-Sir – you can't do that! Friends are a vital part of _any_ developing teena –“

“I can do that. Though, you are correct in that friends are a vital part. Perhaps if you care so deeply for them, you'll come by my office tomorrow, directly after Potions class. One. Hour. Of. Study. Prior. Do I _make_ myself **clear**?”

She sighs, defeated, slumping in the chair. “Yes, Sir.”

“And, Miss Granger –”

“Y-yes, Sir?”

He stands in full, now, grabbing her chin in his right hand, turning her head to look up at him. “Do wear something more flattering. You look the part of a teenager playing a sow.”

She gulps, the flush deepening – more like a blush, now, really. “I – I have a dress. It's all I had the chance to bring with me, this time.”

“That'll do, Granger. You may leave.”

She stands, chin still in his hand – eyes glistening with the beginning of tears. She gathers herself and her materials, tearing herself away from Snape and from a situation she'd been excited for – now an experience she regrets wholly. What could he possibly want _tomorrow_? And why the dress? Questions that plague her as she moves to leave, finding the door locked. She looks back at him, defeated, and he smiles.

“Ah. I'd forgotten.” a wave of his wand. “It's unlocked now.”

“Tosser.” she mumbles under her breath as she exits out into the hall.

His smile remains, watching her leave. _Intoxicating_.

 

* * *

 

She came to class the next day wearing her uniform, as expected – but, like an obedient student, she left the classroom and arrived to his office wearing a pastel pink dress, stopping just above the knees. He hadn't expected it, however, to be as form fitting as it was, something she likely picked for her own flattery. Once again, he makes no mention of her appearance, only gestures to the solitary chair, which she sits in promptly.

“State your name and house, please.” he drawls, ever so Snape-like. His eyes kept their attention on a piece of paper, blank as far as she could tell.

“A-h –” she begins, then swallows what rebellion she might have sparked. Hermione folds her hands in her lap, smoothing an escaped wrinkle. “Hermione Granger. Gryffindor.”

A careful scribble. “State your whereabouts.”

“Professor Snape's office. Office hours.”

“Unnecessary detail.” he tosses the paper aside, along with the quill. “Answer only the question presented to you. Be the model student here as you are in my classes, Miss Granger.”

“Yes, Sir.” a pause. Her cheeks somehow flush deeper than he's seen, in spite of their darker complexion.

“One final question. State the purpose of your visit.”

“I – I don't understand. You never told me.”

“Then what would you say in response? It's really quite simple, Granger. We'll try again.” he clears his throat, almost impatiently. “State the purpose of your visit.”

She's silent for a few moments, something he's receptive to – high marks or no, she's more tolerable with her mouth shut. “A-h. Professor Snape requested to see me.”

He exhales through his nose, grabbing the piece of paper and scribbling a last bit of information on it before handing it to Hermione. “There. With my signature and yours, you are exempt from any declination of your grades or punishment you might receive for being late. This evening will be quite long and your _other_ marks shouldn't suffer as a result of your negligent social life. Agreed?”

She takes the paper hesitantly, reading it over and signing it herself with the proffered quill. “Yes, Sir.” _Why must I spend so long with him? He's_ such _a dreadful man._

“Good. Now, as to the purpose of this visit, you wish to continue socializing with your friends against my direct and better judgment. I will see fit to grant this only if you can prove to me that you are able to follow along and be obedient even outside of the classroom. The dress was one point in your favor, Miss Granger.” he pauses as she looks to the side, running his tongue along his lips to wet them. “And it really _is_ quite a bit more flattering than the school uniform.”

Her eyes snap back to him almost pleadingly, and she shifts in the seat. “Thank you, Sir.” she waits a moment, keeping eye contact with him, clearly biting back what she wishes to say. Then, suddenly: “ _Why_ am I here? What would you have me do that requires me in a dress and visiting your office after class?”

He excuses her outburst, standing and crossing over to her, as he had the previous day. Snape crouches, parting her hair and tucking it behind her ear. “Tell me, was my close presence yesterday intrusive?” his voice is softer than usual, somehow gentle.

“I – a little. Yes. Frankly, you're lucky I didn't report you for touching me.”

He grins, cupping her cheek in his right hand. “Oh? You didn't?”

Hermione pulls away from him, not getting very far in the small, confined space he's enclosed her in. “N-no.”

“And why is that, Miss Granger?”

 _Don't tell him why. Just lie. Say something else._ “I know they wouldn't do anything. It was a wasted effort to even consider it.”

His lips twist into a frown and he's closer, now, so close she can feel his hot breath on her face. “A shame. Even now, with the threat of losing your friends, you somehow still see fit to lie to me Miss Granger.”

“I am _not_ –” she's cut short suddenly, feeling the back of his hand against her cheek.

“I do not abide lies stacked upon lies. Bad enough you think me a fool.” he inhales sharply. Placing his index finger under her chin, she rises with him, almost willingly. “I do not apologize nor regret the smacking. You would do well to remember the sting. Perhaps it will bring some humility to you.”

She averts her gaze. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now, Granger. For the first manner of business, you must strip off your dress.” as she moves to object, he brings his index finger in front of her. “ _Without_ objecting. I don't run a democracy.”

“I will _not_.” Hermione stamps her foot, puffing out her chest and cheeks. “You can't _possibly_ expect me to obey this. It's ludicrous, not to mention _highly_ inappropriate. If I didn't report you before, I most definitely will now –”

His voice is booming and she shrinks back in response. “Granger. I thought I gave you an order you were to _follow_ unquestioningly. I thought I had told you the day prior to only speak when spoken to. You've lied to my face, spoken out of turn, and disobeyed a direct order. Do you think me . . . _kind_? That I would show restraint when dealing with a teenage girl?” he closes the minute gap between them and leans down to whisper in her ear. “Strip. Off. Your. Dress. The consequences of disobeying will be far more dire than receiving low marks.”

When Snape steps back to give her room, she remains in the defiant stance from earlier for a few moments longer before sighing and pulling down the straps on her shoulders. She keeps the dress up as long as she feels Snape would allow, eventually letting it fall to the floor. Hermione is bare, now, save for her panties – tasteful, frilly things. She wants to look away, to not be witness to whatever horrid things he might have planned, but she doesn't want to feel the sting of his hand on her cheek again. Even if –

“Very good, Granger. Now, remove your undergarments as well.” he makes a lowering gesture with his right hand – the same hand that struck her.

She keeps an eye on it as she obeys wordlessly, kicking both articles to the side. Instinctively, she covers her breasts, nipples erect with the chill in the room.

“Now, at least, you've learned how to follow basic orders.” he walks to her, closing the gap, cupping her cheek once more. “It is a wonder you are as daringly beautiful as you are, Granger.”

She flushes intensely, for once, not turning away. Her eyes widen, glistening again with the beginnings of tears. “T-thank you, Sir.” truthfully, it was an easy way to get her to shut down. She'd never placed much stock in people's evaluation of her attractiveness, but when someone did comment on it, she never knew what to say. Let alone someone with such esteem as Professor Snape. “A-h, is there – a – h – something else I need to follow?” she gulps meekly, none of the fire she's known for.

Gently, absently, he caresses her cheek, thumb running across her cheekbones. “You'll be given lessons today, Miss Granger, to be done while unclothed. The first task I require you to fulfill is to close your eyes.”

Again, she obeys wordlessly, hoping for the worst of it to be over already. “Okay, Sir.”

He holds no reservations over this – over her disrobing, or his intimate closeness, or even the kiss he leans down to place on her lips. He feels a tug of resistance at first, then acceptance. When he pulls away, Hermione's eyes are open wide, none of the tears from before. “Was that, perhaps, your first kiss, Miss Granger?”

There's a few silent moments where she processes what just happened, before pulling away from his cheek and turning around, arms crossed. “No – no, it wasn't. What's to stop –”

He's on her before she could finish her thought, hands pressing into her shoulders. “You answered the question. There's no need to go into further detail.” he feels her tense up, wanting to pull away again, but as his fingers work to knead away the knots in her muscles, she relaxes almost involuntarily. “Did you enjoy it? Answer truthfully – as before, with your heart, not your mind. Or, perhaps, in this case –” his right hand sneaks away from her shoulder, trailing down Hermione's side, settling on her ass. Snape gives it a gentle squeeze before parting her legs rather forcefully, seeking out her burgeoning womanhood. “What's between your legs.”

She moans instinctively, a small sound that is as music to his ears. “Y – es, Sir. I – I enjoyed it.” _shamefully, I might add._

“Good. Good,” he croons, lips to her ear. “Your second task – don't make a sound. That door, though made of thick oak, isn't as soundproof as you might think.”

“Y – es, Sir.”

Hermione lets out a sharp gasp as Snape begins to rub at her increasing wetness with his middle finger, pressing her knees together and grumbling to herself as he pushes them back apart. His lips trail a series of kisses at the top of her ear down to the back of her neck, through her thick, curly hair – a distraction from the finger he slips inside with some resistance. She welcomes him almost greedily, wanting badly to rub at her clit herself – but wary of the repercussions. Instead, she stands there, eyes closed in hesitant pleasure. He continues at this pace for a few minutes, granting the sides of her neck firm kisses intermittently. When he stops, she almost sighs in relief, thankful that it's over – but he simply slides a second finger in her, her following gasp cut short by his hand around her mouth. She can feel his erection poking against the small of her back and, absently, presses herself into it. She doesn't want this – doesn't want his lips on her, doesn't want his fingers in her, yet so much of her body is receptive to his touch, and his presence. Each time his fingers pull out, she aches for him more and more, for the whole of him to swallow the whole of her. She knows he can tell what he's doing to her, it's in the way he picks up the pace fingering her bit by bit, until each thrust is punctuated by a wet sound.

She wants to speak – she does – but all that comes out is a small whine, a sound that makes Snape kiss her neck and finger her faster. It isn't long before she begins to enjoy this – a small, still wavering enjoyment, goose prickles popping up all throughout her body. He has a way about him, a commanding presence that looms over her lithe frame – it's perhaps the reason why she didn't report him in the first place. Against her better judgment, she wanted to see why he'd picked her – why this was happening to her to begin with.

After a few more moments, as she's about to finally reach a climax, he stops. She immediately whines, stamping her foot. “More –”

“More – _what_ , Granger?” he slides his fingers out of her, bringing them to her lips from behind.

She licks at them hungrily, exhaling a hot breath. “You know bloody well –”

He spanks her ass, hard, leaving behind an already reddening imprint. “Next time you speak out of turn or fail to refer to me as Sir, I will tear your vocal chords out so you won't be able to make a single sound. More. _What_. Granger?”

She turns around, looking up at him with unblinking eyes. She's so small, coming to just above his waist. “T-touch me more, Sir.”

He places his hand on her head, patting her like a dog. He can tell she despises this – even his touch, his towering presence. “Where.”

She clears her throat, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand back between her legs, against her clit. “Here.”

“Mmn.” he hmms, bending down to kiss her. Again, some resistance, but soon she's pressing into the kiss. He pulls away, looking at her for a few seconds longer, before raising his hand and smacking her. “You'll get what you'll get, Miss Granger. I am not here to pleasure you. You're to be taught a lesson.”

She looks back at him, almost pleadingly, finally starting to cry. “I _hate_ you.”

“You're not supposed to think anything else.” a pause. “Be truthful. Did you enjoy that, my fingers in you?”

“Y-yes. It's why I wanted m-more.”

“Unfortunately, as it seems, you were a little tight for the fitting. I suppose we'll have to –” when he smiles, it is the same smile as a wolf would give, without the fangs. “Loosen you up some, hm?”

“H-how, Sir?” she's taken a step back, still crying, eyes wide and wary.

Snape pulls out his wand, pointing it towards his desk. “ _Evanesco!_ ” In an instant, the clutter on it vanishes, true to the spell's nature. All that remains is a violet cloth of remarkable quality, lined with yellow stitching, fit for a prince or any manner of royalty. He looks at her, brow raised. “On the desk, Granger. This instant.”

For once, she doesn't hesitate, slipping past him and hoisting herself up on the desk. Her ass is still sore from his spanking and her cheek stings – Hermione Granger at this moment resembles more a petulant child than a genius witch. She sniffles, crossing her arms. “I hope you're aware of how _absolutely_ immoral this is.”

“Miss Granger, just a few moments prior you were practically salivating at the chance to have my fingers in you again. If you were so concerned with morality at this point, I'd say you're more a hypocrite than I.” he walks over to her, finally at eye level with her. “For your final task, I want you to maintain eye contact with me for ten minutes. Blinking is allowed.”

She rubs at her eye, pressing the tears away with the palm of her hand. “That's it?”

He smiles. Something in her aches as he does so. “That's it.”

“I – I can do that.”

“Good girl.”

She blushes at that, wanting to badly to avert her gaze and hide the smile that inevitably creeps up on her face – toothy and wide. Snape's lulling voice calling her _that_ brought a warmth to her chest, dropping to below her legs. She hated it and yet, she wished for more. “Are we going to talk or –”

“ _Patience_. And –” he closes the small distance between them, dropping his bottoms to the floor. She hears the crumpling sound of the cloth, eyes widening – she's not sure what she's in for, but she presses her legs together instinctively. He pulls them apart immediately, wrapping his left arm around her small waist, pulling her downward. To him – to the tip of his erection, which slides in her with some resistance. “Remember. _Eye contact._ ”

Her body shakes in response, feeling full already, and she knows he's barely not even halfway in her. She can feel some liquid running down her thighs, thinking it's her wetness, but remembers the situation she's in: it's blood, he's broken her hymen – taken her virginity. She never had any aspirations of waiting until marriage, or some such, but she'd hardly expected it to be with a Hogwarts professor – one who intimidated her to no end. She obeys him, of course, maintaining eye contact with him – but it gets increasingly harder as her sobbing grows. He buries himself deeper in her and she moans – on instinct, not on purpose. Though, like his fingers in her, it _does_ begin to feel better as he thrusts into her more and more. Hermione can only barely see his face, now, but she makes out a smile on his lips – and a small part of her wants those lips on her. Anywhere – everywhere.

Maybe if she does good, she thinks, if she's a good girl, he'll be between her legs after this. She wraps her arms around his neck and begins to rock her hips, feeling her stomach press against his with each motion. She doesn't know if she's come to climax yet – truthfully, before today, she'd never even _considered_ it. But as she's ruminating on this, she lets out a sharp yell as her body convulses _once_ , _twice_ – this, _this_ was what she'd been waiting for all along. When he first stopped short of allowing her to finish. And it felt . . . _incredible_. Still, the pain as he pushed himself deeper in her was present and it ached in her thighs.

“ _Bloody fu_ –” she starts, then stops as Snape's lips are on hers. She kisses him back hungrily.

He pulls away, his smile deepening at her whining. “Ah – ah, language.”

“It fe – eels so _good_ ,” Hermione moans this out, through uneven breaths, through her still blurry vision. “Mo – ore, Sir, _please_.”

He obliges, pulling her off of the desk, wrapping her legs around his waist. His pace quickens, slamming into her wet, bloodied pussy like a hungry wolf – a wolf whose fangs dig into the crook of her neck, drawing blood. She cries out, tossing her head back – he allows the breaking of eye contact, granting him more access to her neck. He bites down harder, tearing through her skin, relishing in the taste, in her cries. Snape can almost feel her tears on him and, as he buries himself as deep as he can in her when he finally cums, presses a forceful, firm kiss to her lips. Like before, she accepts this greedily, moaning into his mouth and pulls away to look at him, brow raised.

“Did – did you just –” she says, bewildered, holding onto his neck with one arm while she wipes her eyes with the other.

“What's the matter, Granger? Isn't this what you –” he pulls out of her, bits of his cum mixed in with blood and her juices dripping down her thighs. “Wanted?”

She stays silent for a few moments, averting her gaze, a deep blush rising on her cheeks. Biting her lip, she nods, offering up a gentle, almost hesitant smile. “Y – yeah, Sir.”

“Good girl.” he kisses her a final time, putting her back on the desk. They continue kissing each other for a bit longer, before he pulls away, spitting in her mouth. He smacks her afterward, leaving behind a final, deep imprint on her face. “Now, clean yourself up, Miss Granger. You've fulfilled your purpose.”

She sits in shock, hand traveling down her bare stomach to her pussy, rubbing at the mixture of liquids there. “Wh – what else do I need to do?”

“Nothing.” he says, sharply. He retrieves his bottoms, slipping them back on and turning away from her. “Good girls like you are only good the first time around, anyhow. A bit of advice, Hermione – ”

Again, something in her aches when he finally uses her first name, but it's painful. It causes her to slide off the desk, back pressed to the wood, more tears forming. “Wh – what?”

Snape crosses over to the door, looking back at her. He places his hand on the door handle, opening it to the now full classroom – all eyes on her, naked, bruised, and bloodied. “Try not to be so trusting. The door was unlocked the entire time. You could have left whenever you wished. I expect this to not interfere with your studies. Class begins shortly, Miss Granger.”

The door shuts with a heavy sound that echoes in her ears. She sits, thinking on what had just happened – how she was so easily used and abused. But most of all – how sick she felt for enjoying it, the feeling of his cum inside her remaining a fresh memory for the rest of the school year.

 


End file.
